Entertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining.fulltext.all.rss
Final Rules: Entertain Philosophicallyhttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/30/slate_s_entertaining_rules_details_reciprocation_philosophy.html
<p>Thus far in this series, we have covered a promiscuous range of entertaining questions. Some were general and frustratingly familiar, like the vexing issue of <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/05/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">food restriction accommodation</a> and the complicated choreography required <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/18/slate_s_entertaining_rules_set_wake_up_expectations.html">for guest and host to wake up gracefully</a>. Others were intriguingly specific, such as our exploration of <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/12/_slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_never_bring_brie_cheese_to_a_party_it_s.html">the great lie we call “brie”</a> and our (<a href="http://gawker.com/do-you-washcloth-1327489324">apparently politically charged</a>) <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/16/slate_s_entertaining_rules_no_washcloths.html">invective against washcloths</a>. But as the series comes to an end, I want to retreat for a moment from the table, bar, and guest room into the quiet, contemplative confines of the study. I want to take some time to meditate on entertaining as a philosophical issue—because all the guidelines in the world are about as useful as an invitation without a date-and-time if the underlying foundation, the <em>why </em>that must undergird the <em>how </em>of entertaining, is not understood.</p>
<p>So, in that spirit, three final rules:</p>
<p><strong>Rule No. 18: Attend to Detail</strong></p>
<p>What distinguishes entertaining from the rest of life? What powerful tool does one need to carve out a few hours of hallowed time in which to acknowledge life’s joys and trials, to connect with fellow human beings, and to conjure a feast of pleasure out of the most basic ingredients? The big secret is ... a little attention to detail.<br /> </p>
<p>Fresh flowers, a sparking glass, a little candlelight, a neatly arranged stack of guest linens—these are all small, simple, relatively inexpensive things that demarcate “entertaining time” from the daily grind. There’s nothing worse than coming to a dinner party or similar event where the host hasn’t taken the time to signal that this is, indeed, a special time. The guest feels like she is intruding into someone’s home life, rather than entering into a space created (through cleaning, adornment, and general care) for this occasion specifically. To steal a term from anthropology, entertaining is a kind of “liminal space,” a special frame of existence like a wedding or funeral in which normal concerns dissolve in service of a more communal purpose. And just about all liminal spaces I can think of involve a certain (if small) amount of special decoration, details that help participants transition into a more intimate mode of paying attention. Once you’ve determined the details that do this well in your space and to your taste, keep them in your back pocket: When you’re ready to entertain, pull them out, and half of the work is done.</p>
<p><strong>Rule No. 19: For the Love of God, Reciprocate!</strong></p>
<p>When I began curating this series, the main complaint I heard from fellow entertainers—<em>by far</em>—was that <em>no one reciprocates anymore</em>. Once I’d considered this claim, I realized they were right: Many cherished individuals who had passed through my door (some on multiple occasions) have never once extended an invitation in return. While this might make some hosts angry, it left me with a feeling of disappointment—surely these wayward souls had a good reason (in their minds) for not reciprocating (space, time, presumed expense, trouble), but could these excuses really compete with the potential for edifying conversation, laughs, and good cheer that had been wasted?</p>
<p>I’m sure I am not alone in treating entertaining—especially smaller dinner parties—as a way of forming and strengthening new friendships. Given that fact, failing to reciprocate is about the same as leaving my high-five unanswered on a crowded street. Having been left hanging, I’m not inclined to continue the game (hanging for too long makes me tired). Now, I’m also not one to hold grudges, but non-reciprocators <em>should</em> consider their impact on the larger social culture: If you neglect to honor your half of the contract, the whole system will crumble and you will have no one to blame but yourself when you find you have nothing to do on a Friday night.</p>
<p>A final note for those who will inevitably complain that while they enjoy socializing at others’ events, they find the prospect of hosting themselves intimidating: No person who you really wish to be friends with is going to care if you do not “match” their level of entertaining prowess. Remember that there are people who get off on being fussy about a dinner party or cocktail soiree or perfectly appointed guest room, and their effort is their prerogative. I am one of those people, but I am perfectly happy spending time with friends in their homes, even if all they feel comfortable serving is take-out or store-bought tortilla chips. Heck, inviting me to a restaurant is better than nothing. The point is, however you want to do it, don’t let those whom “you owe” down—reciprocate!</p>
<p><strong>Rule No 20: Have an Entertaining Philosophy</strong></p>
<p>In closing, it’s worth noting that to be a successful entertainer, you need to think about it, like any art form worth studying, in the abstract—as I wrote in <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">the opening post</a>, “special occasions are not organic occurrences; they must be created.” So, in a studious spirit, I approached the two most skilled entertainers in my life for a distillation of their “entertaining philosophies.”</p>
<p>Daniel Isengart, a private chef, writer, and cabaret artist: &nbsp;<br /> </p>
<p><em>I like to eat, but I prefer to cook. And yet, lovingly prepared food as well as a pleasant, welcoming setting and good wine are a mere backdrop to the main reason for holding a dinner party: Conversation. I like people who are interesting to listen to and I like people who know how to listen. A successful dinner party brings together a healthy mix of both, and as a host, I have the responsibility to make sure that everyone is included in the conversation – and if needed, to subtly create an opening for good listeners to talk and for good talkers to listen. The rest is the madness of home entertainment.</em></p>
<p>Charles Kaiser, journalist and author of <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0802143172/?tag=slatmaga-20">The Gay Metropolis</a> </em>and other books:</p>
<p><em>Entertaining is a lot like journalism on deadline: You spend the day assembling the most interesting ingredients you can find (human, edible), then put them together in the most compelling way possible. The better the ingredients, the less time you’ll have to spend preparing them.</em></p>
<p><em>Then master the art of the perfect vinaigrette. It should always be four parts olive oil to one part vinegar (red and/or white), a dash of lemon juice, and salt and pepper. Salt the lettuce before applying the dressing.&nbsp;Never ever use Balsamic–it will overwhelm all the other ingredients. Shaken, not stirred. Please don’t drown the salad: Use just enough to cover the lettuce leaves (I prefer Romaine, for crunchiness), the tomatoes, the chopped scallions, and one ripe avocado. And always serve the salad after the main course. If you can afford expensive olive oil, use it! It really makes a difference. Once you’ve learned how to make a reliable vinaigrette, almost everything else will take care of itself.</em></p>
<p>Come to think of it, having a good recipe is a rule that applies widely—helps you to navigate the madness. Hopefully we’ve provided a few of those here.&nbsp;</p>
<p>Happy entertaining!&nbsp;</p>Mon, 30 Sep 2013 17:59:14 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/30/slate_s_entertaining_rules_details_reciprocation_philosophy.htmlJ. Bryan Lowder2013-09-30T17:59:14ZLifeFinal Entertaining Rules: Entertain Philosophically240130930001entertainingJ. Bryan LowderEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/30/slate_s_entertaining_rules_details_reciprocation_philosophy.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Everett Collection/ShutterstockCheers to entertaining!Rule No. 17: Buy This Ottomanhttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/26/slate_s_entertaining_rules_buy_the_castro_convertible_ottoman_for_overnight.html
<p>If you often play host to overnight guests, and you don’t have a dedicated guest room, where should your guests sleep? The answer, clearly, is: the ottoman.</p>
<p>Don’t fret: I am not proposing that your visitors sleep curled up like little cats atop a mere footstool. I speak of the <a href="https://www.castroconvertibles.com/convertible-ottomans/">Castro Convertible Ottoman</a>, which rather miraculously folds out into a twin bed. The advantage it offers over other venerable solutions to the where-should-guests-sleep conundrum—including the pull-out couch, the futon, and the Aerobed—is comfort. Featuring a firm foam mattress that rests atop sturdy wooden slats, the Castro Convertible spares your guests the special sensation of a metal crossbar prodding their lumbar regions, or the need to wake in the night to reinflate a leaky air mattress. And it spares you the college-dorm indignity of having a futon in your home.</p>
<p>I was introduced to the Castro Convertible Ottoman by my mother, who has varsity-level retail research skills. She was trying to figure out where she would sleep when she (generously!) came to stay with my husband and me to help take care of our kids. Although I was initially skeptical, I was wooed by how easy the Castro is to unfurl and stow away—there is never that spine-seizing lunge-and-jerk you must perform when hauling a futon back into its locked and upright position. And I was also charmed by its ottomanitude. What is more useful than an ottoman? It becomes extra seating for your Super Bowl party. Put a lacquered tray on top, and you have a side table. In the corner of a bedroom, it collects discarded clothes until you’re ready to put them away. Because the Castro’s legs have wheels, you can roll the thing around your house and use it in all sorts of situations. And it means you aren’t stuck with a daybed or pull-out sofa taking up valuable real estate.</p>
<p>The Castro is not for everyone. At $799, it isn’t cheap. And it is also heavy. It probably makes more sense for a person settled in a semi-permanent home than a post-college group house situation. But it deserves more recognition. I had never heard of a pull-out ottoman until a few months ago, but it turned out to be the perfect solution for our guests and our space. Perhaps it can solve all your problems, too—or at least give you another place to rest your feet <em>and </em>head.</p>Thu, 26 Sep 2013 16:59:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/26/slate_s_entertaining_rules_buy_the_castro_convertible_ottoman_for_overnight.htmlJulia Turner2013-09-26T16:59:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 17: Buy This Particular Ottoman for Your Overnight Guests240130926001entertainingJulia TurnerEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/26/slate_s_entertaining_rules_buy_the_castro_convertible_ottoman_for_overnight.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto illustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photos by Getty Images (2) and courtesy Castro Convertibles.It does <em>everything!</em>Rule No. 16: Dishevel the Sheetshttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/25/slate_s_entertaining_rules_don_t_make_the_bed.html
<p>For me, it’s always been the most stressful aspect of being an overnight guest: What to do with the bedclothes come morning. Do you make the bed, in the hope that your expertly executed hospital corners will erase any evidence of your having been there? Or do you take the opposite approach, stripping the bed down to the Serta and acknowledging that your host will want to launder the sheets before her next guest arrives. Neither approach is ideal: The former might telegraph a cavalier attitude about hygiene—<em>a little drowsy-drool never hurt anyone!—</em>the latter condemns your host to a chore: <em>Thanks for having me—you’re going to want to wash these.</em></p>
<p>There are further complications, particularly for those of us who suffer from mild to severe folding impairment. Occasionally, I’ll be pushed into the strip-it camp purely by dint of a bed’s complexity: A guest room featuring an elaborate layering of sheets, blanket, and duvet, along with an array of pillows of various shapes and sizes, leaves me feeling like I need to make a scale drawing of the bed if I want to have any hope of recreating the effect come morning. <em>How in hell did she get this afghan folded into a right triangle with the tassels on the hypotenuse?</em> <em>Was this cylindrical pillow even here last night?</em><br /> <br /> But bed stripping brings its own irritations. The whole point of this approach is to facilitate the laundering of the sheets you’ve just slept in, but good manners call for you to leave them in a neatly folded stack, as if you don’t know their next destination is the chaos of the spin cycle. What’s more, once you’ve stripped the sheets, the convention is to make what’s left of the bed, neatly tucking in the blanket, arranging the comforter, and fluffing the pillows as if your host could somehow teleport a clean set of sheets onto the bed without undoing your handiwork.</p>
<p>These two imperfect solutions to the bed-making problem have a common flaw: They are both, in essence, pantomimes. They are efforts to prove that you are a good guest not by actually making life easier on your host, but by demonstrating that you are aware of the conventions of hospitality and are willing to abide by them however annoying it may be to do so.</p>
<p>I hereby propose to ratify a new bed-making convention: <em>Just leave it</em>. It sounds radical, I know, but in the current hospitality climate, no one is winning. Guests are wasting their time making beds so they can be unmade or folding sheets so they can be balled up and doused with Tide. Hosts are refolding afghans or doing laundry they’d rather have put off till the next guest arrived. What’s the point?</p>
<p>I realize, of course, that the guest/host relationship is not a purely utilitarian one—there need to be shows of good faith on both sides, and these shows don’t always make hard economic sense. (The dinner host surely knows best what <em>vin</em> to pair with her <em>coq au vin</em>, but the guest should still bring a bottle of a wine.) When it comes to making the bed, however, everyone’s time is being wasted. As a host, I’d rather my guest roll out of bed, pack, brush his teeth, and help me make some eggs than to fidget in the breakfast nook while he tries to remember whether my <a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5619057/il_570xN.276808269.jpg">stuffed Larry Bird</a> lives at the foot or the head of the bed. (Foot.) As a guest, I’d rather show my gratitude for a night of shelter by writing a nice thank you note or sending a small but thoughtful gift than exposing my host to the horror show that is my attempt to fold a fitted sheet. (I’ve watched the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Z5k9nWcuFc">videos</a>—it’s impossible.)</p>
<p>Let’s come together, then, and lift the stigma of rudeness staining the unmade bed. What if, when confronted with tousled linens, we hosts saw not an act of disrespect, but of kindness: I can deal with this as I want, when I want. (<em>And look, how adorable, he seems to have spooned the decorative cylindrical pillow!</em>) Let’s free our guests of this burdensome charade. We’ll all sleep easier.&nbsp;&nbsp;</p>Wed, 25 Sep 2013 11:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/25/slate_s_entertaining_rules_don_t_make_the_bed.htmlJohn Swansburg2013-09-25T11:30:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 16: Don’t Make the Bed240130925001John SwansburgEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/25/slate_s_entertaining_rules_don_t_make_the_bed.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto illustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty ImagesRule No. 15: Provide&nbsp;Liquid&nbsp;Soaphttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/24/slate_s_entertaining_rules_provide_guests_liquid_soap_in_the_bathroom.html
<p>My epic struggle with the question of soap and guests began over a decade ago when I found myself, unrelatedly, grappling with <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/16/slate_s_entertaining_rules_no_washcloths.html">the previously explored washcloth </a>conundrum. Everywhere I stayed, my hosts graciously laid out a bath sheet, a hand towel, and a washcloth. As a polite houseguest I routinely toweled off with the bath sheet, dried my hands with the hand towel, and then—wracked with guilt and confusion on the day of my departure—I would strip my bed, tidy my room, and rinse and fold the unused washcloth. Why this last unnecessary ritual? Because I wanted to signal that I had enjoyed and appreciated the washcloth, even though, as a matter of empirical fact, nobody has actually used a washcloth since 1954.</p>
<p>One time, I got drunk and confessed to my hostess that I would be rising, soaking, and folding her unused washcloth, just so she knew. She was horrified. “Well then what are you doing with the soap?!” she hissed.</p>
<p>“The soap?” I replied, slurrily.</p>
<p>“Yes! The soap! The washcloth is for the soap! You<em> haven’t</em> been rubbing the guest soap directly onto your body … have you?”</p>
<p>Since it was now manifestly clear that I would never be invited to return, I decided to press the issue. Mostly because this conversation was opening up an existential question the likes of which I had never encountered. “But <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/explainer/2007/01/is_soap_selfcleaning.html">I thought soap was <em>clean</em></a><em>?”</em> I confessed. “I thought its cleanness made <em>me </em>clean.” It had never crossed my mind that my dirt power was greater than the soap’s clean power, or that the purpose of the guest washcloth was to mediate between my dirtiness and the soap’s cleanliness. Suddenly it occurred to me that if I wanted to be perfectly hygienic as a hostess, I had a choice to make: I would either need to provide washcloths (no.); boil my guest soaps in hot water between each visitor; or provide a second, clean soap with which guests could wash after they had washed with the dirty one.</p>
<p>Reader, I was indeed never invited back to the House of Washcloths, but I learned a valuable lesson. Guests may become clean by being rubbed vigorously with a piece of soap, but soap becomes dirty by being rubbed vigorously with a piece of guest. As a hostess, this forced me into a lateral move toward the only solution: liquid soaps. For this great invention, all manner of application implements may be used, but bare hands are superior—both for the user and for the laundry. Washcloths and cross-contamination, all thwarted with a single squirt.&nbsp;</p>
<p>For a while, I hoarded all the little bottles of soap I collected on hotel jaunts, laying them out in a cunning little basket in the guest bathroom so that my visitors would never be forced to touch even <em>packaging</em> sullied by a prior guest. But this tactic can become problematic if guest demand outpaces the supply of bottles. Also, for a brief period this summer, I decided that it was far more elegant to have a spare guest bathroom uncluttered by dozens of little half-used bottles. So, before the next guest arrived, I tossed all the containers into the guest bathroom trash bin and considered the matter settled.&nbsp;</p>
<p>But I had made a grave mistake. After my most recent visitor departed I found in the guest shower an empty bottle of Suave blue dinosaur-flavored kids’ bodywash-shampoo-conditioner-shaving lotion. The poor traveler had doubtless scavenged it from the garbage can to squeeze the last precious drops of cartoonish liquid from its crushed-up innards in order to feel slightly cleaner than he would have felt if I had given him, say, a small box of harmonicas in which to bathe. As a hostess I was mortified. I had failed to replace the little bottles of liquid soap with a single, substantial, irritant-free grown-up one, which is, of course, what a host should always do. Learn from my struggle: Provide liquid soap and never be foiled—or soiled—in the guest toiletry department again.</p>Tue, 24 Sep 2013 17:16:59 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/24/slate_s_entertaining_rules_provide_guests_liquid_soap_in_the_bathroom.htmlDahlia Lithwick2013-09-24T17:16:59ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 15: Provide Liquid Soap240130924001Dahlia LithwickEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/24/slate_s_entertaining_rules_provide_guests_liquid_soap_in_the_bathroom.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by George Marks/Hulton Archive/Getty Images&quot;But isn't the cleanliness of a bar of soap what makes me clean?&quot;Rule No. 14: Commit and Stay Committed!http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/23/slate_s_entertaining_rules_rsvp_immediately_and_don_t_cancel.html
<p>Whatever the event, when an invitation comes&nbsp;just face it: You know whether you can go. These days most invitations arrive on the same devices on which you keep your social calendar. So stop procrastinating, being coy, or keeping your options open—immediately accept or decline. Think of how much more willing to entertain people would be if when they invited their friends to their homes to provide food, drink, and hospitality, they weren’t made to feel that the process required them to act like stalkers. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</p>
<p>My mother insisted the telephone never be answered on the first ring because doing so smacked of desperation. It’s that same sense of playing hard-to-get on display in people’s hesitation to immediately reply to that Paperless Post invite when it lands in the inbox. People may worry they seem lacking in alternatives if they hit “yes” upon receipt. But I assure you that if you respond with alacrity your hosts will not wish they’d known how unpopular you are. They will rejoice that you are one less person they need NSA surveillance tools to track and try to corner into an answer.</p>
<p>Ignoring the obligation to respond to an invitation has become an escalating problem in part because of technology. With the advent of the online invitation, and its automatic, recurrent plaint, people feel they can ignore the first few rounds of summons. Another cause is the ubiquity of smartphones and the access to a livestream of social temptations that comes with them: Everyone has a lingering sense that if they just check their phone often enough, a better offer will come along.</p>
<p>If the idea of an evening with the people who have invited you fills you with dread, then for God’s sake, just swiftly say, “No.” Keep doing so often enough and the hosts may eventually get the message you’re not really friends. There also will be times you would like to accept, but can’t respond at the moment because you’re waiting to hear if you’re going to be taking an out-of-town trip, or if those tentative plans with other friends are going to firm up. But don’t click on the dreaded “maybe.” Just find out as fast as you can about whether these other engagements are going to happen. If necessary, you can explain to your hosts that a possible work trip is pending, then give them a realistic time frame for getting back to them.</p>
<p>If you think that such niceties are unimportant, consider that the growing lack of manners around RSVPs may be in part to blame for the decline of the dinner party, the cocktail party, and the open house. There are your hosts with the deadline for their event looming, wondering how much they should get at the grocery and liquor store or whether they should even bother. The need to hector invitees into responding cruelly sends people who enjoy entertaining into a crisis of confidence about their conversational and culinary skills. Are they really so unspeakably dull? Are they known for causing their guests to go to the emergency room with food poisoning?</p>
<p>As <strong><em>Slate</em></strong>’s Dear Prudence, I’ve received many distressed letters from people who want to have an elegant dinner party, or offer everyone a cup of Christmas grog, but instead of being able to plan the event, they’re spending all their time feeing like big game hunters trying to bag their guests. In response to one of these letters a reader offered her brilliant solution. When her son was little she grew frustrated with never knowing how many children were coming to his birthday parties because few of the parents bothered to RSVP. So in a moment of inspiration, she once left the date and time off the invitation. That resulted in almost every parent calling to fill in the blanks, at which time the hostess was able to pin them down for a head count. So consider luring your guests into committing by sending an offer to wine and dine them on an unknown day or at a yet-to-be-disclosed time.</p>
<p>Finally, I wish I didn’t need to add the following point, but I do. Guests, when you answer “yes,” that’s a binding commitment. If you’ve ever bought travel insurance you know it lists the circumstances under which the company will reimburse you for a cancelled trip. Stuff like death, dismemberment, declarations of war. Those are the kind of exigencies that will get you out of a dinner party invitation you’ve accepted. If on the night in question you’re feeling, “I don’t want to schlep across town, I’d rather just watch <em>Homeland</em>,” and decide not to show, your absence may be perceived as a declaration of war on the friendship. Just don’t do it, <em>s'il vous plait</em>.</p>Mon, 23 Sep 2013 17:51:39 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/23/slate_s_entertaining_rules_rsvp_immediately_and_don_t_cancel.htmlEmily Yoffe2013-09-23T17:51:39ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 14: RSVP Promptly and Don't Cancel!240130923001entertainingEmily YoffeEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/23/slate_s_entertaining_rules_rsvp_immediately_and_don_t_cancel.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Retrofile/Getty Images.Stop being coy—reply already!&nbsp;Rule No. 13: Keep Your Guests Connectedhttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/19/slate_s_entertaining_rules_provide_chargers_wifi_passwords_and_other_tech.html
<p>Beyond the requisite provision of (<a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/16/slate_s_entertaining_rules_no_washcloths.html">certain!</a>) linens and a selection of basic toiletries, hosts of overnight guests have a measure of discretion regarding which other amenities to provide. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0847826198/?tag=slatmaga-20">Writing in the 1940s</a>, Dorothy Draper included the following accoutrements in her list: “a tiny clock on the bedside table,” a stack of “one or two new and interesting books,” “a small desk fitted with note paper, envelops, two or three postcards, several stamps, ink and several new pens, pointed and stub,” and “a pincushion with various kinds of pins and two needles threaded, one with white cotton, one with black silk.” Times have changed—a bedside clock is still nice, but these days, instead of a formal correspondence setup, most guests would probably prefer a different kind of link to the outside world. Are you tending to your guests' digital needs? A few thoughtful courtesies can help you be sure. &nbsp;</p>
<p>Most importantly, <strong>have your Wi-Fi password ready to share.</strong> Ideally this means updating the password to something memorable that you can mention to your guest—like her name: “Welcome to our home, Jessica. By the way, the Wi-Fi password is <em>Jessica</em>.” Obviously if you change your Wi-Fi password every time Jessica or Jordan or Jacob comes over, you’re going to have a problem keeping your own Wi-Fi devices connected, so the key is setting up a guest network on your Wi-Fi router that is literally only for guests. The password on your master Wi-Fi network—the one just for you—stays the same. This is a <a href="http://support.apple.com/kb/HT3477">breeze to do with any Apple Wi-Fi router</a>, slightly more complicated but still doable with <a href="https://openwireless.org/routers">most</a> <a href="http://kb.linksys.com/Linksys/ukp.aspx?pid=94&amp;vw=1&amp;articleid=21461">other</a> <a href="http://www.howtogeek.com/153827/how-to-enable-a-guest-access-point-on-your-wireless-network/">routers</a>. If you’d rather not bother customizing a new password for each guest, at least write the password down and place it in the guest room.</p>
<p>Once your guests are connected, they’re going to need juice to stay that way: Do your best to <strong>provide a charging cable for smartphones.</strong> This is one of those things that you offer even if you think your guest doesn’t need it, just to spare them the trouble of having to ask. If you are an iPhone user and many of your potential guests are, too, the solution is easy: Depending on your respective phone generations, share your charger if you can, or keep a spare for such occasions. And if you have not yet graduated to iPhone 5, go ahead and splurge now on a <a href="http://store.apple.com/us/product/MD824ZM/A/lightning-to-30-pin-adapter-02-m?fnode=48">Lightning-to-30-Pin adapter</a>, because you’re going to need it for yourself very soon anyway.</p>
<p>To prepare for non-iPhone users, you can stockpile an archive of cables from various other sloughed-off devices. Better yet, become a hoarder of them—be ready to pounce when you hear that a friend or relative has upgraded their phone. (“May I inherit your charging cable from that Motorola Droid 2?”)</p>
<p>But to best accommodate a wide range of devices, consider getting a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00C40OG22/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B00C40OG22&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20">universal charging pad</a> that operates on the Qi standard. It will work with a lot of the phones your friends are likely to have: Google Nexuses, Nokia Lumias, Samsung Galaxies, and a few others.</p>
<p>Of course, not all digital tasks are easily handled on a smartphone. <strong>Giving your guest access to a computer </strong>enables them to deal conveniently with larger email tasks or edit and upload their photos to the cloud. (Losing all your vacation pictures if a camera or phone gets misplaced or stolen is worse than losing the camera itself.) Invite them to use your desktop or laptop at the end of the day. Make sure you've enabled a guest user account for your computer so you don’t have to worry about snooping. (Here’s <a href="http://windows.microsoft.com/en-us/windows7/turn-the-guest-account-on-or-off">how to turn on a guest account in Windows</a> or <a href="http://support.apple.com/kb/PH6419">on a Mac</a>). You can even <a href="http://support.apple.com/kb/HT2900">activate parental controls</a> if your guests are on the sketchy side.</p>
<p>Finally, a savvy hostess will assist her guests and save herself some “tour guide” trouble by<strong> treating</strong> <strong>them to some travel apps in advance.</strong> Scout out some of the more useful smartphone apps that your guests might need for visiting your city, and send an email praising them in advance. If any comes with a price tag, gift them via the app store. At the end of this post, you will find some good iPhone apps for New York; Washington, D.C.; Chicago; and San Francisco. &nbsp;And here are some good iPhone travel apps for any destination: <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/travel-list-easy-trip-packing/id348737462?mt=8">Travel List</a>, <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/hiptrip-offline-maps-guides/id596661279?mt=8">Hip Trip</a>, <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/yahoo!-timetraveler/id527349170?mt=8">Yahoo Time Traveler</a>, and <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/urbanspoon/id284708449?mt=8">Urban Spoon</a>.</p>
<p>In a perfect world, a guest could just put down the smartphone and back slowly away from the computer. After all, vacation is for unplugging. But these days travelers have logistics to deal with, and real-time social sharing of photos and memories has become part of the travel experience itself. So it’s up to you, host, to make them just as comfortable in the digital world as in the real one.</p>
<p><strong><u>New York City Travel Apps</u></strong></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/nextstop-nyc-subway/id376416453?mt=8">NextStop NYC</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/nytimes-the-scoop-nyc/id374981318?mt=8">New York Times The Scoop</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/time-shutter-new-york/id470785257?mt=8">Time Shutter NYC</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/nyartbeat/id354569809?mt=8">NY Art Beat</a></p>
<p><strong><u>Washington, D.C., Travel Apps</u></strong></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/embark-dc-metro/id362578625?mt=8">Washington DC Embark</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/dc-going-out-guide/id285887422?mt=8">Going Out Guide</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/smithsonian-mobile/id457046192?mt=8">The Smithsonian</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/nps-national-mall/id447866739?mt=8">NPS National Mall</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/spotcycle/id323382862?mt=8">SpotCycle</a></p>
<p><strong><u>Chicago Travel Apps</u></strong></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/embark-cta-train-chicago-l/id385287307?mt=8">Chicago CTA</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/art-institute-chicago-tours/id598666649?mt=8">Art Institute of Chicago Tours</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/chicago-travel-guide-offline/id344197927?mt=8">Ulmon Chicago Travel Guide and Offline Map</a></p>
<p><strong><u>San Francisco Travel Apps</u></strong></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/routesy-pro-bay-area-san-francisco/id284950244?mt=8">Routesy Pro Bay Area San Francisco</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/sosh-sf-nyc-brooklyn-city/id457297757?mt=8">Sosh San Francisco</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/top-25-san-francisco-attractions/id428173872?mt=8">Top 25 San Francisco Attractions</a></p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/time-shutter-san-francisco/id424253488?mt=8">Time Shutter San Francisco</a></p>Thu, 19 Sep 2013 11:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/19/slate_s_entertaining_rules_provide_chargers_wifi_passwords_and_other_tech.htmlChad Lorenz2013-09-19T11:30:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 13: Keep Your Guests Connected240130919001Chad LorenzEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/19/slate_s_entertaining_rules_provide_chargers_wifi_passwords_and_other_tech.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto illustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photos by Lambert/Getty Images, Shutterstock (2)Rule No. 12: Set Wake-Up Expectationshttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/18/slate_s_entertaining_rules_set_wake_up_expectations.html
<p>I love hosting out-of-town&nbsp;friends overnight, but living in a 560-square-foot apartment poses certain challenges. For instance, when your 6-foot-5 friend Cole visits from Chicago for the weekend, whether or not you have the physical space to house his sleeping body becomes a very real question. But the most vexing conundrum I face hosting Cole (or any other guest) isn’t a problem of geometry; it’s one of circadian rhythms. In my experience, rarely do host and guest operate on a common sleep schedule.</p>
<p>For those fortunate enough to have a separate guest room, this disjuncture poses less of a problem. A separate sleeping space allows the host to wake up, make breakfast, and do the crossword while her guest snoozes soundly. Understandably, many guests will want to take advantage of the mini-vacation that an overnight trip represents and sleep in a bit—if you have the luxury of a guest room, let them!</p>
<p>But for those of us living in confined quarters where your every twitch risks rudely awakening your guest, ninjaing your way across the living room to the kitchenette is a regular requirement. That’s how, one recent Saturday morning, I found myself tip-toeing around the edge of an air mattress, hopping atop the armchair, and half-leaping into the kitchen area to make coffee. I’d like to say I did all this with the grace of Ginger Rogers, but in reality it must have looked like a 4-year-old playing a game of “the floor is made of lava.”</p>
<p>So what are the mismatched guest and host to do? If the guest wakes up early and enterprisingly brews a pot of coffee, she risks making the host feel guilty for not doing so first. If the guest snoozes or (as I’ve done before) pretends to be slumbering while the host stirs around, the guest looks like a layabout. Is there any way to win?</p>
<p>Yes. Like any good relationship, the host/guest symbiosis thrives on clearly communicated expectations. In most cases, it’s safe to assume the burden of setting boundaries is on the host. If you’re harboring someone overnight and you’re a naturally late sleeper, fess up! Tell your guest, “I usually try to roust myself by 11, but if I’m not up by then, pound on my door. If that’s too late for you, I’ll give you a copy of my key and you can meander to the coffee shop around the corner.” Or, alternately, “If I don’t take Sparky out by 6 a.m. every morning, he’ll micturate on the floor, so it’s best for everyone if I get up then. I’ll try not to wake you, but if I do feel free to make a passive-aggressive comment upon my return.” If you’re a guest and your host doesn’t set a clear lights-out policy, or if you feel awkward asserting your sleep schedule ahead of time, a good rule of thumb is 9 a.m. After a quiet night in, no guest or host should take umbrage at being awoken at that respectable hour.</p>
<p>That said, all bets are off if we’ve gone out the night before. After an evening spent belting picklebacks at the local dive, don’t expect me to gently awaken you with the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. The only rolling to be had in that case will be myself, out of bed, to the nearest place where we can shovel hash browns into our respective faces. Rest assured.</p>Wed, 18 Sep 2013 18:00:29 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/18/slate_s_entertaining_rules_set_wake_up_expectations.htmlEmma Roller2013-09-18T18:00:29ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 12: Set Wake-Up Expectations240130918001entertainingEmma RollerEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/18/slate_s_entertaining_rules_set_wake_up_expectations.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Retrofiile/Getty Images.Watch your step!Rule No. 11: Put Away Your Washclothshttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/16/slate_s_entertaining_rules_no_washcloths.html
<p>You’ve got houseguests coming over! Hooray! Hosting friends, family, or strangers you met on the Internet is one of the most civilized, rewarding things you can do with your home. Your house is becoming a haven for weary travelers, providing them sustenance and warmth, strength for their future journeys, companionship for a night or two. (What’s that? Three nights? Well, OK, but ...)</p>
<p>And so you prepare! You change the sheets on the guest bed, or at least pile clean sheets at the foot of the futon. You dust the bookshelves and stock up on hummus and get out the playing cards. You change your Wi-Fi password from “ilikebigbutts123” to something innocuous. And in your freshly cleaned bathroom you set out a fluffy towel and a matching washcloth.</p>
<p>But wait! Put away that washcloth. No one wants it, no one needs it, and you’re wasting space, energy, and money by buying it. Here’s why:</p>
<p>Washcloths are the least efficient, least useful, least effective cleaning devices known to man. They waste soap and waste time. And when they’re done not quite getting your guests clean, your guests will dutifully hang them over the shower rod or the faucet, where they’ll drip drip drip drip all over everything.</p>
<p>Once upon a time, washcloths were the only way to wash your body. Those who could not afford servants to draw scented baths scrubbed miserably under the low-water-pressure drizzle of cold showers, trying to use a soft, dripping scrap of fabric to get themselves clean. The cloth held a minuscule amount of suds, forcing reapplication of soap after every microsector of the body was cleaned. Left upper chest: Check! Time to reapply soap. Left midchest: Check! More soap. This wasteful choreography was exhausting, not to mention unsuccessful: Eventually the hot water runs out, and whatever hasn’t yet been washed simply stays dirty until the next day.</p>
<p>And this is not even to mention the problem of body hair, which sticks fiercely to washcloths, weaving itself into the warp and weft of the accursed square, so that when the guest takes a second shower—or, heaven forbid, a <em>second</em> guest takes a <em>first</em> shower—the short-and-curly evidence of previous scrubbing awaits them, clinging to the cloth like a tick. <em>Hi there!</em> the hairs say. <em>You may think you’re getting clean, but really you’re just rubbing someone’s back hair all over your face!</em></p>
<p>Gross.</p>
<p>These Dark Ages lasted from exactly 1200 to the 1990s, when someone finally invented the synthetic shower scrub, that poof of nylon mesh that hangs in civilized bathrooms. Available in many cheerful bright colors, these scrubbers hold on to soap—whether bar soap or, ugh, shower gel—with a vengeance, allowing an average-sized person with an average number of nooks and/or crannies to wash his entire body with just one application. They squeeze out with little effort and come with twine loops for easy hanging on hooks which you will thoughtfully install <em>inside</em> the shower. Best of all, they rinse clean in seconds, sending body hair down the drain where it belongs.</p>
<p>So instead of spending <a href="http://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/Cotton-Bamboo-Towels-wash-cloth-/prod43490041___/?icid=&amp;searchType=MAIN&amp;rte=%2Fsearch.jsp%3FN%3D0%2B%26_requestid%3D28805%26Ntt%3D%22wash%2Bcloth%22&amp;eItemId=prod43490041&amp;cmCat=search">$16 on a plush washcloth</a>, get&nbsp;<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E3DN82C/?tag=slatmaga-20">10 colorful mesh scrubbers</a> for less than 14 bucks. You’ll have 10 clean and happy guests, and you’ll have done your part to convince America’s skincare-industrial complex that washcloths are a needless waste of our world’s resources. In with the new! Wring out the old! Down with the washcloth!</p>Mon, 16 Sep 2013 12:00:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/16/slate_s_entertaining_rules_no_washcloths.htmlDan Kois2013-09-16T12:00:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 11: Put Away Your Washcloths240130916001entertainingDan KoisEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/16/slate_s_entertaining_rules_no_washcloths.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto illustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photo by George Marks/Retrofiile/Getty ImagesThe washcloth is dead. Long live the microfiber mesh scrubber!Rule No. 10: Know When to Say Goodbyehttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/13/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_when_to_leave_a_party_at_the_end_of_the_night.html
<p>In the <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">opening post of this series</a>, I described an ideal dinner party scenario: After taking their fill of food, drink, and amusing conversation, host and guest alike parted ways with the most pleasant of tastes in their mouths—a nip of cognac or Grand Marnier and perhaps a bit of quality chocolate. That those flavors lingered on the palate instead of less savory ones—acrid awkwardness, bitter confusion and indigestion-inducing shame, for example—resulted from the successful execution of one of the most difficult moves in the choreography of entertaining: saying goodbye.</p>
<p>After we instructed you in <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious_1.html">the ways of the well-executed arrival</a>, many of you wrote in expressing trepidation regarding the other end of the evening, that inevitable point (unless, perhaps, you are entertaining in Barcelona in your early 20s, in which case, feel free to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmAjp77ovEo"><em>pasar de todo</em></a>) in the festivities, usually between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m., when it becomes time for them to end. As one of you so eloquently put it, how do you politely “tell people after a dinner party to get the fuck out if they won’t leave?”</p>
<p>Well, speaking first of dinner parties, you might try that exact phrase; I actually often take a (less profane) jokey-honesty tack and announce, during a lull in the after-dinner conversation, that it is “time for you all to get out of my house. Goodnight!” And research shows that I am in good company, as this <a href="http://chowhound.chow.com/topics/581334">forum commenter</a> demonstrates: “My stepfather holds up a needlepoint pillow (which my mother made a few years back) which says ‘Goodbye’ on it. Works like a treat.”</p>
<p>But, of course, such wryness is not appropriate for all occasions, nor do all hosts wish to be so brusque. Traditionally, a hostess gently signaled that it was time to collect your coat by remarking on the time, starting to clear the table, or inquiring about her guests’ transportation needs. The rituals of a standard dinner service also help keep everyone on schedule—if coffee and after-dinner drinks have been served, guests should expect to leave within an hour at most, ideally at the natural waning of the conversation.</p>
<p>If these soft communiqu&eacute;s are ignored, more forceful gestures include serving cold water, turning on the <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/10/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_have_good_party_lighting.html">mood-killing overhead lights</a> and/or cutting the music. (Whatever you do, do not open more wine or liquor if you truly wish to bring things to a close; anecdotally speaking, this seems to be the single biggest mistake struggling hosts make, especially when tipsy guests request it. If you are trying to be firm, booze will never help.) These methods, along with suggesting that the group move to a public establishment or warning everyone that your building or neighborhood has noise restrictions, are also probably the most effective for a larger party situation in which it is difficult to communicate your desires to everyone at once. Unless they have already expired on your couch, your sticky guests should get the hint that you’d now like to retire to your own bedroom in peace.</p>
<p>You might also keep in mind this lesson that my partner and I have, as entertainers of diverse acquaintance, had to learn the hard way: There are some people who are not yet equipped for even informal civilized events, and it is OK to exclude them until they get it together. Your home is not a bar; if you find yourself having to expel guests at 4 a.m. like a common bouncer, you may need to make some adjustments to your contact book the following morning.</p>
<p>Now, thus far, we’ve spoken of what a host can do to wind things down, but guests of dinner parties and larger gatherings obviously have their part to play as well. First, always keep in mind that your host has almost certainly been preparing for your visit for a solid few hours or even an entire day with cooking, cleaning, and decorating before you arrive. You may feel ready for a Big Night, but they will more likely be ready to call it one around the witching hour. Then, watch for the following cues: no more bottles are being opened or the hosts are putting the libations away; dishes are being cleared or light cleaning attempted; conversation is lagging and people are eyeing the clock; it is a weeknight (regardless of your personal routine, remember that most people like to get some sleep); you yourself are falling asleep, and have not been invited as an overnight guest; your hosts are holding open the door and screaming at you to please God go home. If any of these signals appear in the field of your senses, gracefully and with great gratitude take your leave.&nbsp;</p>
<p>As with whipping cream, there is an ideal time to stop, and a point beyond which things curdle. But with a dash of attention, a sprinkle of forthrightness, and a dollop of self-control, all parties can come to that best of conclusions—a happy ending.&nbsp;</p>Fri, 13 Sep 2013 11:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/13/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_when_to_leave_a_party_at_the_end_of_the_night.htmlJ. Bryan Lowder2013-09-13T11:30:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 10: Know When to Say Goodbye240130913001entertainingJ. Bryan LowderEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/13/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_when_to_leave_a_party_at_the_end_of_the_night.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Getty ImagesRule No. 9: Never Bring Brie, Ever Againhttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/12/_slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_never_bring_brie_cheese_to_a_party_it_s.html
<p>To Brie, or not to Brie? If you ever find yourself selecting cheese for a party, that is the question. You might think it’s a good idea to brie. In the last few decades, the cheese has become the default choice for a “classy” occasion. As online grocer FreshDirect puts it, “<a href="http://www.freshdirect.com/product.jsp?catId=brie&amp;productId=fra_brie60&amp;trk=srch">It's what your guests expect (and want) you to serve</a>.” How could you go wrong?<br /> <br /> I am here to tell you that you can go wrong. In fact, you go wrong just about every time you choose Brie for a party. The reasons are simple: It’s bland, it’s boring, and—at least in the United States—it’s rarely even the real thing.<br /> <br /> It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when Brie—at once buttery and earthy, literally oozing with flavor—was the cheese of royalty. Charlemagne was reputedly a devoted fan. At one of history’s poshest parties, the Congress of Vienna, the 19<sup>th</sup>-century French diplomat (and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Maurice_de_Talleyrand-P%C3%A9rigord#Private_life">prominent foodie</a>) Talleyrand reportedly called for a break from divvying up the nations in order to stage a cheese tournament. Lord Castlereagh of England spoke in favor of Stilton, Dutch minister Baron de Falck nominated Limberger, and Italy and Switzerland countered with <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=sH8MAAAAYAAJ&amp;pg=PA208#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false">Strachino and Gruy&egrave;re</a><em>.</em> Talleyrand remained quiet until the end, when the Brie was brought in. After a vote, the conference declared another king<em>, le roi des fromages </em>(“<a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=sH8MAAAAYAAJ&amp;pg=PA209#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false">the king of cheeses</a>”).<br /> <br /> But the intervening centuries have not been kind to Brie. As the legacy of the Congress of Vienna collapsed, Brie’s region of origin, Brie, was ravaged by the Franco-Prussian War; the area’s dairy industry has <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=TmRuoa40mQgC&amp;pg=PT98#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false">never been the same</a>. Next, as Steven W. Jenkins laments in his <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0894807625/?tag=slatmaga-20"><em>Cheese Primer</em></a>, the land fell to industrialists. Around the 1950s, Brie became largely a factory cheese—produced not by small farms but by factories in another region, Lorraine.<br /> <br /> It gets worse. Brie’s popularity boomed in the United States <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/06/dining/06fancy.html?pagewanted=all">in the ’70s and ’80s</a>, even as the finest Bries were being shut off from these shores. In 1985, the FDA, fearing dangerous bacteria, began to require that all cheeses be pasteurized or at least aged for 60 days before they’re imported. Since the Brie of Talleyrand and Charlemagne was always an unpasteurized cheese that would spoil if aged for so long—and since good bacteria were considered necessary to make a proper Brie—the law effectively outlawed true Brie from the United States.<br /> <br /> As a result, the “Brie” you’ll find in the U.S. today is generally Brie in name only. The oldest and most popular varieties, <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=WJEJETTgALIC&amp;pg=PA105#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false">Brie de Meaux</a> and <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=WJEJETTgALIC&amp;pg=PA106#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false">Brie de Melun</a>, are required by French law to be made with raw milk, and are thus prohibited from crossing our borders. (Don’t be fooled: If you’ve ever bought a cheese labeled “Brie de Meaux” in the U.S., it was <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1981/05/20/garden/brie-de-meaux-in-the-united-states-is-rarely-the-real-thing.html">almost certainly not the real thing</a>: The U.S. importer Anco registered “Brie de Meaux” as a trademark in the ’70s, allowing them to slap the label onto cheeses that aren’t actually made with raw milk in the township of Meaux, but instead are made with pasteurized milk, and so have a different texture and flavor.) In the U.S., there are no rules governing what you can call a Brie, meaning that juggernauts like Lactalis (one of <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/18/business/worldbusiness/18iht-wbcheese.1.17029728.html?sq=&amp;st=cse&amp;%2334;=&amp;%2334;raw%20milk%20cheese=&amp;scp=10&amp;pagewanted=all">the largest dairy producers in the world</a>&nbsp;and owner of the Pr&eacute;sident brand) can bestow the Brie label onto even <a href="http://www2.costco.com/Browse/Product.aspx?Prodid=11204764&amp;whse=BD_823&amp;Ne=5000001%204000000&amp;eCat=BD_823%7C9897%7C10050&amp;N=4031223%204294938131&amp;Mo=0&amp;No=0&amp;Nr=P_CatalogName:BD_823&amp;Ns=P_Price%7C1%7C%7CP_SignDesc1&amp;lang=en-US&amp;topnav=bdoff">the most flavorless cheeses</a>.</p>
<p>So why, if our Brie is so woefully ersatz, has it continued to be so popular? (Greenwich Village’s Murray’s Cheese Shop confirmed to me that it’s still one of their best-sellers.) I fear it’s precisely its blandness that makes it so omnipresent. Today’s Bries—especially the plastic-wrapped wedges you’ll find in the bins at your grocery store—promise the cachet of a fine French cheese without any of the potential drawbacks. There’s no difficult-to-pronounce name, no stinkiness, and no strong flavors to offend delicate palates. As several French exporters told the <em>New York Times </em>more than three decades ago, the American taste for Brie had already “<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1981/05/20/garden/brie-de-meaux-in-the-united-states-is-rarely-the-real-thing.html">evolved to a general preference for a bland, somewhat underripe product</a>.” Just give us the butteriness and none of the character. If we want flavor, we’ll tart it up with <a href="http://www.freshdirect.com/product.jsp?catId=brie&amp;productId=fra_brie_pep&amp;trk=srch">crushed pepper</a> or <a href="http://www.freshdirect.com/product.jsp?catId=brie&amp;productId=fra_brie_herb&amp;trk=srch">herbs</a>.<br /> <br /> If you think I’m overstating my case, I suggest you talk to a cheesemaker or cheesemonger. When I emailed Jenkins, who is now the cheesemonger for New York’s Fairway Market, he did not mince words:</p>
<p>There is real Brie (1 percent, literally), and then there is factory brie (lower case ‘b’, 99 percent).&nbsp;Day. And. Night. … Anyone who chooses the ‘brie’ found in the shittiest supermarkets, the finest supermarkets, the chichiest food shops is making a really bad choice.</p>
<p>He went on:</p>
<p>Again, any purported sophisticate that does not understand this is no more than a dilettante. There is absolutely no redeeming reason for ever allowing pasteurized ‘brie’ into one’s life. The stuff doesn’t even run. The running should be the American cheeselover—AWAY from this phony-baloney.</p>
<p>If you absolutely <em>must </em>have a Brie for your dinner party, there may be some reasonable options. At Fairway, for example, Jenkins imports a Brie from French cheesemaker Robert Rouzaire that is “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thermization">thermized</a>,” rather than pasteurized. (Essentially, the milk is heated at a low temperature for a long time rather than at a high temperature for a short time.) At Murray’s, there is no unpasteurized Brie, but they do have a handful of cheeses that constitute the next best thing. Upon offering me a taste of their favorite Brie, Brie Fermier—which is pasteurized, but made with an eye toward flavor—they pointed out that it tastes not only mushroomy but, startlingly, like broccoli. It was undeniable.<br /> <br /> But for many, of course, it will be impossible to travel to a store like Fairway or Murray’s to get the Rouzaire or even something like the Fermier. If these options are not available to you, or even if they are, I would suggest that there are hundreds of other good party-cheese options—a Manchego, a Taleggio, a Gouda, or even a good cheddar. In the era of Whole Foods and foodie culture, surely you can count on your hosts and fellow guests to appreciate a range of pleasures that extends further than just <a href="http://bit.ly/18fWA2t">double-</a> or <a href="https://www.freshdirect.com/product.jsp?catId=brie&amp;productId=che_brie_rn_trplcrm&amp;trk=srch">triple-cr&egrave;me</a>. It may not be what your party companions expect, but it’s what they’ll love.</p>Thu, 12 Sep 2013 19:17:46 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/12/_slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_never_bring_brie_cheese_to_a_party_it_s.htmlForrest Wickman2013-09-12T19:17:46ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 9: Never Bring Brie240130912001entertainingForrest WickmanEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/12/_slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_never_bring_brie_cheese_to_a_party_it_s.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto illustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photos by Getty (2) and Thinkstock.Rule No. 8: Stock Your Bar with Orange Liqueurhttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/11/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_orange_liqueur_most_important_to_well_stocked.html
<p>In the beginning, when still you were apprenticing at entertaining, you showed that your apartment parties were a cut above the standard fridge-packed-with-canned-beer affair by purchasing vodka (to supplement the centerpiece of your occasion, a fridge filled with canned beer). Maybe it was a round-shouldered bottle of Absolut, maybe it was a plastic tank of Popov, but probably the liquor you put out was vodka, a little something for the ladies and non-beer-swilling fellas to mix with juice and soda. Maybe also there was a comfortably priced bottle of whiskey or some other sipping liquor for your guests to slam, like a liquid blunt instrument.</p>
<p><strong></strong></p>
<p>In the fullness of time, your tastes developed, as did (one hopes) your solvency, and those standard beer bashes evolved. You started setting up a basic bar, or at least started setting out an array of liquor bottles, none of them made from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyethylene_terephthalate">polyethylene terephthalate</a>. You perhaps followed the standard advice on assembling a home bar with brandy, gin, rum, tequila, whiskey, and vodka, or you developed your liquor cabinet by concentrating on one drink or spirit that floated your boat and expanding from there. Like a bonafide grown-up, you bought and refrigerated some vermouth. You’ve come a long way, ladies and laddies.<strong></strong></p>
<p>Now what? Beyond the basics, what one bottle will elevate your occasion to a full-fledged—or, OK, like, at least three-quarters-fledged—cocktail party? Which one liqueur will serve you best? What’ll it be, bub?<strong></strong></p>
<p>Orange liqueur is the red-letter bottle.<strong></strong></p>
<p>Speaking of orange liqueur, we are speaking of such sweet concoctions as <a href="http://www.alcademics.com/2011/02/whats-the-difference-between-orange-curacao-and-triple-sec-.html">triple sec and cura&ccedil;ao</a>, but we are not talking about the budget-level triple secs at the bottom of the back of the dive bar. (We shall not even acknowledge <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=blue+curacao&amp;safe=off&amp;client=safari&amp;rls=en&amp;source=lnms&amp;tbm=isch&amp;sa=X&amp;ei=OkUqUrSDC7XE4APF7oHQDA&amp;ved=0CAkQ_AUoAQ&amp;biw=1180&amp;bih=516">blue cura&ccedil;ao</a>, a fluid most famous for adding an azure idiocy to spring-break drinks and for resembling Windex in more ways than one.) No, we are speaking of a building block of such classics as <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=QQPQnCwBdJ8C&amp;printsec=frontcover&amp;dq=margarita+recipe+degroff&amp;hl=en&amp;sa=X&amp;ei=I4YvUuywFcnb4APz8YHgDw&amp;ved=0CEYQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&amp;q=margarita%20&amp;f=false">the margarita</a>, <a href="http://www.esquire.com/drinks/sidecar-drink-recipe">the Sidecar</a>, and <a href="http://www.diffordsguide.com/cocktails/recipe/2091/white-lady">the White Lady</a>. The basic formula for those shaken drinks—liquor + orange liqueur + lemon or lime juice—translates so that you may build a successful simple sour around any liquor in the world. Moreover, a mere few dashes will fancy up a basic stirred drink like the old-fashioned or the Manhattan. Indeed, by definition, <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=n4_TDhi2Q48C&amp;pg=PA66&amp;dq=fancy+improved+curacao&amp;hl=en&amp;sa=X&amp;ei=-0cqUrmhE7La4AP5yIGADw&amp;ved=0CDUQ6AEwAQ#v=onepage&amp;q=fancy%20improved%20curacao&amp;f=false">a “fancy cocktail” is one with cura&ccedil;ao in it</a>.</p>
<p>But of the classic coterie of orange liqueurs, which is the best for the casual or occasional home mixologist? I am inclined to put in a good word for <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/21/dining/for-cocktails-pierre-ferrand-dry-curacao-ancienne-method.html?_r=0">Pierre Ferrand Dry Cura&ccedil;ao</a>, which is both novel (launched last year) and venerable (based on a 19th-century recipe). It’s not expensive (savvy shoppers shouldn't have to pay the $32.99 list price), but it’s bottled so handsomely as to seem quite suave indeed, and these qualities further recommend it as a hostess gift.</p>
<p>To understand the nuances among your other options, consult the chart on page 305 of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1616200464/?tag=slatmaga-20"><em>The Drunken Botanist</em></a>. Here, author Amy Stewart reminds us that all-purpose Cointreau—popular with mixologists and <a href="http://multivu.prnewswire.com/mnr/prne/remy-cointreau/40762/images/40762-hi-cointreaupolitan-show-1.jpg">ecdysiasts</a> alike—gets its oomph from distilled sugar beets and its va-va-voom of flavor from sweet and bitter orange peel, while the more complex Combier—the world’s first triple sec—is flavored with bitter Haitian and sweet Valencia oranges. Grand Marnier, meanwhile, is based on cognac and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cr%C3%AApes_Suzette">fun with crepes</a>. It’s so rich with vanilla and spice that some restaurants offer it as an after-dinner drink, and you may count yourself suave by offering it as a post-prandial libation. Caveat: The only person I’ve ever seen drink Grand Marnier neat is Peter O’Toole, and you do not want to be serving a drink to anybody who drinks like Peter O’Toole. Too much property damage. We’re trying to have a civilized drink here.</p>Wed, 11 Sep 2013 12:00:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/11/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_orange_liqueur_most_important_to_well_stocked.htmlTroy Patterson2013-09-11T12:00:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 8: Stock Your Bar with Orange Liqueur240130911001entertainingTroy PattersonEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/11/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_orange_liqueur_most_important_to_well_stocked.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by H. Armstrong Roberts/Retrofile/Getty ImagesRule No. 7: Get the Lights Righthttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/10/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_have_good_party_lighting.html
<p>Given the dark days we’re supposedly living in where entertaining is concerned, it’s worth throwing a spotlight on one often-overlooked tool in the host’s arsenal: Lighting. I’ve been at parties where bum lighting thwarted fledgling romances, quashed burgeoning dance parties, and otherwise convinced everyone to put away the Pictionary and go home early, making events much less fun than they would otherwise have been.</p>
<p>The most important thing to remember about party lighting is that your guests should never feel a spotlight is being thrown on <em>them</em>. Whether you are hosting a dinner for six, cocktails for 20, or a full-bore red-cup rager, you want your guests to feel that your home is pleasant to look upon, attractive—even glamorous. You also want them to feel this way about each other. The easiest way to create that ambiance is to turn the lights down low—as savvy hostesses have long recognized, this simple trick can obscure a range of sins, from the domestic to the cosmetic. What you can’t see won’t kill the vibe.</p>
<p>The host’s best friend in this regard is the dimmer switch. If you own your place, have them installed. If you rent, look into it. But if the soiree you are hosting is hours away and it’s too late to take on an electrical project, there are still a few ways to ensure that your party thrives in a magical golden glow, rather than curdling under a harsh interrogative glare.</p>
<p>First, you must banish overhead lights. If a light is mounted to the ceiling, it must not be turned on for the duration of the party. This is true for bathrooms as well as common spaces. If your bathroom has only an overhead, put some tea lights or a candle in there so that guests are never confronted with the discrepancy between the alluringly witty raconteur they feel themselves to be and the mussed-haired, sauce-stained, bloodshot person they actually are.</p>
<p>In the powder room and elsewhere, use lamps, sconces, candles—anything that will cast light <em>sideways</em> at your guests, rather than from above. I’m one of those ecological scofflaws who resists compact fluorescent bulbs and LEDs and has stocked up on incandescents because I prefer their warm tones. I’m sure the eco-bulbs will catch up eventually, but they are not there yet. Also: Do not fear Christmas lights! It doesn’t matter if it’s June. It doesn’t matter if you’re Jewish. A classic string of small white twinklers exudes a perfect party glow. If you don’t want to hang them up, coil them in a nice glass bowl or pitcher. (I once used an (unplugged!) blender because it was all I had handy.)</p>
<p>With this information, your parties are sure to be appropriately radiant. But what to do when you are a guest at a fete with lighting that recalls the dairy aisle at Stop and Shop? This advice is controversial, but: Intervene. It is inexcusably rude, of course, to fiddle with your host’s menu, seating arrangements, or playlist. If any of these elements seems bad or ill-conceived, you must soldier through, because the host has no doubt given them much thought. But when party lighting is bad, it is usually because hosts don’t even realize that party lighting is something they must plan for. If your elbow happens to brush past that overhead switch and flick it off, well, who’s to say it wasn’t an accident? Your fellow guests—newly burnished in the dim—will thank you.</p>Tue, 10 Sep 2013 11:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/10/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_have_good_party_lighting.htmlJulia Turner2013-09-10T11:30:00ZLifeEntertaining Rule No. 7: Get the Lights Right240130910001entertainingJulia TurnerEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/10/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_have_good_party_lighting.htmlfalsefalsefalseIllustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photos by Getty, Thinkstock.Rule No. 6: Good Guests Always Offer to Clean Uphttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/09/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_guest_clean_up_etiquette_good_guests_should.html
<p>Growing up, my family had a beach house that had a reputation for hosting boisterous meals and a steady, rag-tag stream of houseguests who ranged from the fastidious to the sloppy. After countless dinner parties and scores of overnighters, it eventually became common for my college friends to happily mingle with my parents’ college friends over wine and seafood and pies. Much of what I learned about cooking and entertaining can be traced back to those summers, including this important addition to the realm of guest etiquette that will serve you well: Good guests always offer to clean up—that’s how they get invited back.</p>
<p>While much of the beach house entertaining hosted by my parents was informal, the food was taken very seriously and every evening’s menu was discussed with urgency before 10 a.m. Even “informal” dinner parties usually take a considerable amount of time, planning, and money on the part of your hosts. So how to acknowledge their effort? While L.V. Anderson has already forbade you from <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/04/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">showing up early and offering to help cook</a>,&nbsp;assisting with the less glamorous parts of hosting can often be appreciated. Probably the least fun aspect of having people over for dinner is spending an hour cleaning after everyone leaves or waking up with a slight hangover to crusty plates in the sink and wine stained glasses scattered through the living room. Unless you are attending a catered evening complete with a waitstaff, you should actively look for opportunities to lend a hand.</p>
<p>Take cues from your hosts on how much they are hoping to accomplish that evening (tired souls do, sometimes, just prefer to retire and deal with the wreck tomorrow). But if they begin to start cleaning up, this is the time to chime in with offers of assistance. Without making a fuss, jumping up to clear the table, load the dishwasher, scrub pans, or dry dishes is perfectly appropriate. And even the most control freaky chefs can often loosen up once the meal is over: “Cooking is a creative act; cleaning up is just a chore,” says Anderson, who has no qualms about letting guests pitch in with cleaning. Of course, if your host firmly and genuinely turns down your offers, you should back down, but with a little insisting they may be glad to accept the help. Trust me, you host will remember your thoughtfulness when it comes time to make another guest list.</p>
<p>If you are an overnight houseguest, the bar is higher. You should be much more proactive about cleaning up and making your host’s life easier, since your presence is a bit more intrusive on your hosts’ everyday life. You should always promptly take care of any dishes you generate on your own, like cereal bowls and coffee cups. You should put away foldout couches without prompting. If your host encouraged you to “help yourself” to anything in the fridge, you should leave the kitchen the same or better condition than you found it. If they are providing you with home-cooked meals as part of your stay, you should always pitch in after the meal without prompting and be more adamant in your insistence if they rebuff your offer to help.</p>
<p>Following this protocol will not only make you a guest with stellar manners, it will also likely make you a guest that gets invited back to that fun beach house, nice city apartment, or next delightful dinner party. And when you reciprocate and play host yourself, I promise you’ll enjoy your guests’ considerate behavior, in addition to their sparkling personalities.&nbsp;</p>Mon, 09 Sep 2013 15:26:02 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/09/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_guest_clean_up_etiquette_good_guests_should.htmlKatherine Goldstein2013-09-09T15:26:02ZLifeRule of Entertaining No. 6: Good Guests Should Offer to Clean Up240130909001entertainingKatherine GoldsteinEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/09/slate_s_rules_for_entertaining_guest_clean_up_etiquette_good_guests_should.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Lambert/Getty ImagesModel behavior.&nbsp;Rule No. 5: Invite the Office. Cautiously.http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/06/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html
<p>There’s a big difference between socializing with colleagues at a bar or a company holiday party and inviting them into your home. I’ve gotten tipsy with my <strong><em>Slate </em></strong>comrades in local watering holes, sung karaoke with them, and danced with them at the company retreat, but I hesitate to ask them to cross the threshold to my apartment for a party. That’s because breaching the professional/domestic divide is like making a high-risk investment—with the potential for great social reward comes the threat of total career ruin.</p>
<p>The risk side of that calculation is especially potent if you, like me, are fairly early in your career. Say you aspire to mix your regular friends with your work pals—what if the former group’s entertaining behavior has not yet graduated from kegger to cocktail party? Add that to the fact that your budget and domicile may be modest, and the prospect of inviting older colleagues over feels increasingly awkward. More senior professionals, meanwhile, may also hesitate to invite subordinates, wondering if their younger colleagues will meet their entertaining expectations—and if showing off their comfortable quarters and fancy foodstuffs might breed resentment.</p>
<p>Indeed, real estate anxieties definitely play a big role. I live in a studio apartment, which means there’s no back room to hide personal items away from view. Sure, I share office furniture with my cubicle mate, but will he feel awkward sitting on my bed or resting his glass of wine on my vanity? Similarly, a colleague who owns a home in an “emerging neighborhood” in Brooklyn hesitates to invite colleagues over, fearing their judgments of the area. But those with chic dwellings have just as much to fear as those with shabby ones: If your peers think your home is worth a lot more than theirs, will they assume your salary is unfairly elevated? Or will your boss conclude that you have a secret inheritance and hesitate to give you a raise the next time you ask?</p>
<p>Issues of property value aside, alcohol—a necessary ingredient for any get-together—conjures the stumbling specter of further embarrassment: What if your free-spirited friends embarrass you in front of your boss by getting too drunk or saying something inadvertently offensive? What if <em>you </em>embarrass you in front of your boss by getting too drunk or saying something inadvertently offensive? An off-the-cuff remark made while sloshed might become a treasured inside joke with your colleagues—or it might result in awkward glances and burning shame at Monday morning’s staff meeting.</p>
<p>To figure out when and under what circumstances I should invite my colleagues over, I asked—who else?—my colleagues. They obliged me with anecdotes and rules of thumb that boil down to five crucial directives:</p>
<p><strong>Take your cues from your office’s culture. </strong>If your office is rigid and hierarchical and doesn’t encourage socializing, maybe leave your colleagues off your guest list. If the tenor of your office is friendly, informal, and collaborative, go for it. If you’re really not sure, it can’t hurt to check with HR. <strong><em>Slate</em></strong>’s vibe is pretty casual, but just to be safe, I called our HR director, Tracey Coronado, to ask what she thought about entertaining your colleagues. (“I tend to be for it,” she replied.)</p>
<p><strong>Only invite colleagues you actually like. </strong>“I have invited co-workers to house parties, and maybe one or two to a dinner party, because I was genuinely friends with them,” says my colleague Katherine Goldstein. A common domain name on your work email addresses does not ensure that you will have anything else to make small talk about.<strong></strong></p>
<p><strong>But don’t be overly exclusive. </strong>The old rule about elementary school birthday parties still applies: Either invite less than half the class, or invite everyone. There’s no excuse for leaving out one or two people just because you’re not as close to them as you are to your other colleagues. “It feels horrible to realize your co-workers are whispering and emailing about something you weren't invited to,” says <strong><em>Slate </em></strong>copy editor Ryan Vogt.</p>
<p><strong>Don’t misplace your inhibitions. </strong>“When I’m hanging out with work people, maybe I won’t have that extra drink. I don’t want to spill anything that would change my relationship with people at work or anything like that,” says Tracey from HR. Of course, this rule applies outside the home, too—you can say regrettable things to colleagues even when you’re not entertaining. (Ask me about the time I attempted to demonstrate my commitment to <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> by slurrily telling my boss that I <em>totally </em>would have procured cocaine for the company retreat if he’d asked me to.)</p>
<p><strong>Let the superior make the first move. “</strong>I always put it on the boss to invite the employee first,” says Tracey. “I would never randomly invite my boss to something, especially if it’s a small dinner party.” With power dynamics at play, some bosses shy away from socializing with underlings, which is why it’s a good idea to have a clear sign—like an invitation to a party at their house—that it’s OK to extend an invitation of your own. And if you <em>are </em>the boss, make sure not to put any pressure on underlings to come to your barbecue—no one likes to feel coerced into spending leisure time with their manager.</p>
<p>We may be somewhat removed from the days when hosting a pot-roast dinner with the boss and his wife was necessary for career advancement, but mixing cubicle and domicile can still have its benefits: There’s no better way to create a feeling of camaraderie with your colleagues than schmoozing off the clock. Just temper your celebratory attitude with a healthy dose of caution: Remember, you have to spend 8 hours a day with these people.</p>Fri, 06 Sep 2013 13:03:49 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/06/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlL.V. Anderson2013-09-06T13:03:49ZLifeThe New Rules of Entertaining. Rule No. 5: Invite the Office. Cautiously.240130906001entertainingL.V. AndersonEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/06/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto illustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photos by Getty (2) and Shutterstock.&quot;Let your boss make the first move.&quot;Rule No. 4: Compromise on Food Restrictionshttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/05/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html
<p>Question: How do you find the vegan at the dinner party?</p>
<p>Answer: Oh, don't worry—<em>they’ll let you know</em>.</p>
<p>Get it? Because vegans are crazy demanding and annoying and prone to proselytizing. </p>
<p>HA.</p>
<p>I’m kidding, of course; I start with this dumb joke only as a kind of exorcism, because this post will be no place for food restriction-phobia. If you came here frothing with veggie-hate or seething with allergy denial, get it out of your system (perhaps with a good cleanse) right now. In this safe space, we assert that vegetarians, vegans, gluten-abjurers, religious observers, and all other members of the Community of Food Restricted Peoples (CFRP) are legitimate human beings who presumably like to be entertained as much as anyone else, and we will endeavor here to work out a model of accommodation—and compromise—functional for both guest and host alike.</p>
<p>However, as a person whose only notable “food preference” is against chocolate cake (no, I don’t want your recipe), but who also often cooks for members of the CFRP, I thought it best to “step-back,” as is often said in discussions of &quot;privilege,&quot; and consult the group for its own opinion on the matter. My Facebook network did not disappoint and, indeed, proved that FRPs are, on the whole, agreeably practical about these matters. The most common response I received to the question “What do you expect from a host?” was, basically, not very much. Many FRPs felt it was appropriate to alert the host to their particular concern at the time of invitation, but also felt that they should, as the special case, be willing to bring their own food if the host would find it a burden to change the menu. One respondent was particularly vocal about not being an imposition on his friends:</p>
<p>“I tell people I'm a vegetarian, not an asshole. If you went out of your way to make something and there's no easy alternative and I'm hungry, then I'll smile and enjoy it. The worst thing would be to throw meat away because of my principles. Not only will I end up hungry but that animal will have been ground up literally for no reason at all … I try to keep my dietary restrictions from being a social liability.”</p>
<p>This “figure it out for myself” strategy seems workable to me; but then again, it does take some of the joy out of the wine-and-dine entertaining model that L.V. Anderson <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/04/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">articulated in Rule No. 3</a>. To be sure, as a well-intentioned host who sometimes forgets that duck fat is non-vegetarian, I appreciate this fellow’s <em>esprit de corps</em>. But I do think that hosts of vegetarians should try to compromise as well. In my own experience, it’s useful to have a few suitable <em>and thoughtful</em> recipes on hand—an individual portion of <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/21/health/nutrition/21recipehealth.html">homemade Spanish <em>pisto</em></a> (even made ahead and frozen) with a poached egg on top, for example—that can be quickly added to the workflow when the need arises. In fact, with something like that on their plate, the vegetarian guest’s meal may be envied by the meat-eaters surrounding him.</p>
<p>Of course, vegetarianism, as well as straightforward, yes/no food allergies and religious prohibitions, really don’t pose that much difficulty for a competent host in the grand scheme of things. But what about vegans or the gluten-averse or those with other needs that place much of the standard fridge and pantry off-limits? I’ve struggled with this one, as I have friends in this category; but, since we’re talking rules, I must be plain: Vegans and similar heavily restricted folk would probably do best to bring their own food, as many of my CFRP respondents suggested. It is a lot to ask most cooks to adjust to these strictures, especially if you are not a recurring guest and you want something other than salad. Impugn my culinary imagination if you must, but I’m just being pragmatic about the time and inclination I have to learn an entirely different (and, to be frank, useless outside of your presence) mode of cooking. &nbsp;</p>
<p>Of course, as a gluten-intolerant friend pointed out, one way to avoid this unpleasantness is for the FRP to throw the dinner party herself—it should go without saying that guests should be happy to try gluten-free or vegan food in that person’s home. And who knows? Perhaps the ignorant like me will pick up a recipe or two that we can execute in the future.</p>
<p>In the end, it’s truly this spirit of compromise that I hope will prevail in the ongoing food restriction debates. Reasonable people can lead different dining lifestyles (whether for health, ethical, or strictly preferential reasons), and, as an ex-veggie friend eloquently put it, “not be dicks about it.” A little accommodation—<em>on both sides</em>—goes a long way.</p>
<p>But what if none is forthcoming? If a host is not willing to accommodate her guests even a little, she may want to think about why she’s entertaining: is it for her friends or, in reality, herself? If it’s the latter, there are a number of perfectly lovely cookbooks under the designation “cooking for one.” And as for those rare militant FRPs who are totally uncompromising, here are a few parting words courtesy of <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/daniel-isengart/ill-eat-you-first_b_3215719.html">the Food Commander</a>, whose entertaining wisdom I quote because I could not hope to say it better: “…kindly embrace the fact that your body is not all that fragile. Humans survive every day in conditions way worse than, say, a four-course dinner in an Upper East Side townhouse … [but] if your narcissism prevents you from relinquishing some control and sharing a communal experience or, put differently, if you cannot stomach the idea of being served the same food as everybody else, then simply&nbsp;<em>avoid communal experiences altogether</em>. You will not be missed.”</p>Thu, 05 Sep 2013 11:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/05/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlJ. Bryan Lowder2013-09-05T11:30:00ZLifeThe New Rules of Entertaining. Rule No. 4: Compromise on Food Restrictions240130905001entertainingJ. Bryan LowderEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/05/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Lambert/Getty ImagesI'm so glad that you have a gluten free option!Rule No. 3: Refrain From Trying To Help Me Cook, Please.http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/04/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html
<p>I enjoy cooking. My friends, being fellow twenty-something urban-dwelling bobos, also enjoy cooking. You’d think this common interest would be a good thing, yielding countless shared sessions of culinary creativity. Indeed, I have pleasantly whiled away the hours with intimates by searing Brussels sprouts while sipping kirs, debating whether there’s enough lime in the guacamole while sipping <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/drink/2013/08/rum_and_coke_history_recipes_variations_plus_moxie_cocktails_and_pdt_s_cinema.html">rum and Cokes</a>, and adorning pizza dough with various toppings while sipping Montepulciano. However, all of these gatherings had two things in common: They were prearranged (as in, we decided in advance that we wanted to cook together), and they were small (as in, there were two or three of us, and we weren’t expecting more guests).</p>
<p>But I have far less pleasant memories of other occasions spent in the kitchen with friends—sweaty times, stressful times, times when the alcohol was not sipped but <em>guzzled </em>to ward off a panic attack. I’m talking about the times I’ve hosted dinner parties, and my friends have uttered the dread words: “Oh, I’ll come over early to help you cook!”</p>
<p>We’ve already discussed the <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">grave affront that arriving early represents</a> to hosts, but it is the offer of assistance that truly strikes fear into my heart. Why? Well, honestly, I’m kind of a control freak about dinner parties. I plan my carefully balanced menus days in advance. I usually write up a schedule for myself, too, figuring out when I should shop for which ingredients, which dishes I can prep or cook in full the day before, what I can do the morning of, what needs to be saved for the last minute. Paying such close attention to minutiae soothes me, quiets the voices in my head that say things like <em>What if my friends from college don’t get along with my friends from after college </em>and <em>What if [name redacted] drinks too much and gets obnoxious </em>and <em>What if NO ONE HAS A GOOD TIME</em>?</p>
<p>The schedule and my peace-of-mind inevitably go out the window the second my first early-bird friend walks in the door. Suddenly she is saying, “What can I do to help?”, and since my itinerary did not take this eager laborer into account, I never know what to say. And thus the tabbouleh ends up being made too far in advance and just sits there getting watery, or the frittata gets burnt while I’m explaining how thickly I wanted the eggplant to be sliced, or I completely forget to chop up the strawberries for dessert sauce because I’m distracted by the need to serve my premature guest the precise cocktail he desires.</p>
<p>Then there is the fact that the kitchen in my studio apartment is tiny. No joke: My half of the cubicle I share with <a href="http://www.slate.com/authors.will_oremus.html">Will Oremus</a> is bigger than my kitchen. One time, I decided to see how many people could cram in my kitchen simultaneously—two if we wanted to be able to open the refrigerator door, three if we didn’t. You get the idea: There’s not much space, and there’s only one cutting board, which means that though my friends <em>think </em>they are being helpful by peeling garlic, they are in fact impeding me from completing the time-sensitive task of de-stemming kale for the salad that needs to marinate for half an hour before it can be consumed.</p>
<p>They are also making that kale <em>very </em>hot. Between the heat of the oven, the fire erupting from the range, the overworked refrigerator, and the healthy 98.6-degree bodies that keep rubbing up against me as we pass each other at the entrance to my furnace of a kitchen, it’s a miracle that the kale (or its cook) has never spontaneously combusted.</p>
<p><em>Why do you even have dinner parties, Laura?</em>&nbsp;I hear you thinking. <em>It doesn’t sound like you like your friends very much</em>.<em> </em>Ah, but I do like my friends! I like them so much that I want to spend hundreds of dollars and umpteen hours of my time to make them a delicious, varied meal and furnish them with a comfortable environment in which to drink and be merry. But when they come over early to “help,” they make it difficult for me to do that. I want my friends to be comfortable, but when I’m trying to figure out whether I should make the cake batter or start saut&eacute;ing the onions first, it’s hard for me to attend to their needs. I want to provide my friends with sparkling conversation, but when I’m torn between checking on the contents of the oven and those of the food processor, it’s hard for me to return their repartee. I want to listen to my friends’ problems, but when the blender is on and the tofu is hissing noisily in a skillet, it’s hard for me to hear.</p>
<p>In other words, it’s not only better for the meal and for my mental health<em> </em>if my friends stay home until the designated start time—it’s better for our relationship. So please, the next time I invite you to a dinner party, <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html">don’t show up early</a> with an apron in tow. A fashionably late arrival and a bottle of wine will do just fine.</p>Wed, 04 Sep 2013 12:00:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/04/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlL.V. Anderson2013-09-04T12:00:00ZLifeThe New Rules of Entertaining. Rule No. 3: Don’t Help Me Cook240130904001entertainingL.V. AndersonEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/04/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Retrofile/Getty ImagesSeriously, get out of here.Rule No. 2:&nbsp;Don’t Be Early. (But Don’t Be On Time Either!)&nbsp;http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious_1.html
<p>During my college years, there was only one entertaining rule in my very party-prone suite: Parties should be publicized as starting at 9 p.m., but no one should actually come before 10:30. The logic was both selfish and discriminating—the inner circle could have proper cocktails for a few hours before the rabble arrived, and, in any case, no party guest worth his vending machine-purchased mixers would possibly want to knock on our door until at least 1.5 hours in. Most people naturally grasped this implicit guideline, but a few times, certain clue-lackers would arrive right-on-freaking-time. They would be allowed to stay that night (we weren’t monsters, after all), but future invitations were not forthcoming.</p>
<p>Avoid the fate of those sad souls—come with me as we study the art of timing and dispel the vagaries of the well-executed arrival.</p>
<p>To start with, an easy but surprisingly abused rule: NEVER be early. Though other timing considerations apply differently to different kinds of events, this one is universal.</p>
<p>A vignette for demonstration: You are preparing a dinner party for 8, which, because you are civilized, is meant to start at 8. Because you are what people call an ambitious cook (or as you like to think of it, a cook who cares so much for the pleasure of his guests that you go that extra, somewhat time-consuming mile), you are running <em>just a bit </em>behind. Things are generally under control, but you need every last second to get to a point where you can finish up the cooking while being charming with your guests at the same time (no easy feat). Then, at 7:45, a knock at the door. Your startled body jerks, causing you to fling the bowl of Spanish olives you’ve prepared as a cocktail nibble across the kitchen floor. Cursing quietly, you sweep up the oily orbs as best you can and hide the mess in the pantry closet. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to show up 15 min early? “It’s Betty,” a muffled voice reveals. You glare at Betty through the peep hole. “Why Sally,” she practically sings when you open the door, a strained smile plastered to your face, “I know I’m early, but I was already in the neighborhood and thought you might need some help.&nbsp; Put me to work!” Now totally thrown off your game, you can think of a few places you’d like to put Betty, and to work is not one of them.</p>
<p>Moral of the story? If your host wanted you to be there at 7:45 to “help,” he would have said so. Don’t be presumptuous.&nbsp;</p>
<p>That doesn’t mean you should arrive right on time, either. I realize this will be controversial in some quarters, but my firm belief is that a dinner, cocktail or house party or even an overnight guest should arrive late on purpose—but only a little. If you have hosted any function in this realm, you will know that an extra 10-20 minutes is <em>always </em>appreciated. Perhaps there was a time in the past when hostesses sat waiting in their perfectly clean parlors 10 minutes to curtain, smoothing the wrinkles from their gowns and worrying that the candles might not last the evening, but that is no longer the case. Modern entertainers—those servant-lacking, work-life-balancing angels who still muster the strength to be generous—need every moment they can get to finish up the cooking, neatening, and ambiance-orchestrating, so do them a favor and dawdle a bit before ringing the bell.</p>
<p>But notice that I said <em>only a little</em>. Past the 30-min mark (outside of college, anyway), and you move into risky territory, especially if there are other guests in attendance. A few extra moments for cocktails and greetings before dinner will never be a burden to anyone, but if the food <em>is </em>ready and you are still “5 min away!” and already 45 minutes late, you have become, well, rude. Of course, more informal cocktail/house parties will be more flexible in this regard (there’s usually less “won’t-you-please-sit-down?” punctuation), but, if you’re dealing with people who have lives, arriving at 11 for a party that should end by midnight is pushing it. Planning your arrival within hour-one is a best practice.</p>
<p>An easy way to remember all this? <em>Do</em> be tardy for the party, but, as in all matters of elegance, not too much.&nbsp;</p>Tue, 03 Sep 2013 19:15:50 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious_1.htmlJ. Bryan Lowder2013-09-03T19:15:50ZLifeThe New Rules of Entertaining. Rule No. 2: Don’t Be Early...Or On Time.&nbsp;240130903002entertainingJ. Bryan LowderEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious_1.htmlfalsefalsefalseIllustration by Lisa Larson-Walker. Photo by Getty Images.Rule No. 1: Entertain!http://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.html
<p>On a recent late-summer evening in New York, a group of friends gathered on a verdant 16<sup>th</sup> floor terrace to enjoy the unseasonably cool breeze. The couple who own the apartment, in addition to being skilled (or at least lucky) gardeners, are noted for having “entertaining”—that ancient human ritual of letting other people into your shelter, usually for food, drink and/or some kind of amusement—down to a science. The more practical of the pair attended to a few basic but essential details; this particular evening, that meant quickly made gin and tonics, a pleasing but unobtrusive playlist of Motown classics, and softly glowing hurricane lamps. Meanwhile, the more artistic partner handled things in the kitchen: freshly blended pesto and salty pasta, a crisp, well-dressed salad, three simple cheeses, and a proper French baguette from the bakery a few blocks down. Being an ardent Francophile, the practical host insisted on this last bit, in addition to offering hot coffee and a little cognac or Grand Marnier to his guests as their genial chatter rose with the moon over a glittering Triborough Bridge. After saying goodnight, the guests felt, as they had many times before, a great deal of affection for their hosts and walked home indulging the suspicion that a cozy, well-considered dinner party was surely the most delightful form of human interaction imaginable.</p>
<p>Whether you agree with that assessment or not will go a long way in determining how you feel about Guy Trebay’s <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/29/fashion/saving-the-endangered-dinner-party.html?pagewanted=all&amp;_r=0">eulogy for the dinner party</a> in the <em>New York Times </em>last November. If you believe Trebay, people have all but given up entertaining their loved ones at home in favor of Saturday evenings spent lounging “in their sweat pants while juggling an iPad, a remote wand and the chopsticks that they use to share General Tso’s chicken eaten straight from the carton.” As Trebay grimly summarizes: “The seated dinner, with its minuet of invitation and acceptance, its formalities and protocols, its culinary and dietary challenges, its inherent requirements of guest and host, alike is under threat.”</p>
<p>Of course, the proper dinner party is not the only genre of entertaining, but if you listen to the depressing whispers of the zeitgeist, other strains, such as the overnight stay, the weekend jaunt, and even the low-key house party, are all on the way out as well. To blame? Restaurants and the Internet and the recession and general misanthropy and Netflix binge-watching and Lord-only-knows what other lazy excuses. Perhaps the sad truth is that the only way we will “entertain” one another in this brave new century is with overwrought <em>bon mots</em> typed nervously in the hopes of a meager “like” or “retweet.”</p>
<p>Or perhaps we just need to get it together, people. Fact is, this declinest narrative will find no quarter in the pages of <strong><em>Slate</em>. </strong>Entertaining can and should remain a vital and vivacious part of the human experience, and we plan to do our part to make it so with this series, a compendium of 20 posts that will appear over the next four weeks. But “The New Rules for Entertaining” will not just be a gut-punch of tough love; we understand that a big part of the problem is that many of us have been out of the hospitality game for so long that our silver-polishing and shrimp-cocktail-arranging and conversation-making muscles have grown stiff. And indeed, in that down time, much has changed—for example, no one should really bother with stuffy fine silver and played-out cocktail sauce anymore (unless, of course, that’s your thing).</p>
<p>So consider the forthcoming set of rules a series of salutary stretches. As with any new set of exercise moves, some will be bracingly novel while others represent gentle updates of old standbys. All, however, are guaranteed to be good for your social health. Now, where to begin? It should probably go without saying, but the fundamental question is worth addressing: To entertain, or not to entertain? Of course, we say, without fear, doubt, or interest in any retort, ENTERTAIN.</p>
<p>But, being of a critical bent, we find it more interesting to ponder why a smart, interesting, likeable person like you would find yourself mulling that question in the first place. Luckily, Dorothy Draper, an expert in the field of entertaining who published <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0847826198/?tag=slatmaga-20">one of the canonical texts</a> on the art form in 1941, offers a ready explanation: she called it, unsympathetically and with Nietzschean assuredness, “the will to be dreary.” And quite right she is. All the hemming and hawing one encounters these days concerning “how much trouble” it would be to have a few friends over for a simple dinner, cocktails, or even (Dorothy, cover your ears) <em>take-out</em> is indeed dreary and, might we add, extremely tiresome.</p>
<p>So, Lesson One: Stop being dreary. Giving a party need not be fussy or expensive or overly time-consuming, but, at some point, <em>you will</em> have to go buy the flowers (or Prosecco or whatever) yourself—which, we concede, might involve some amount of <em>stress</em>, that natural part of life that we are for some reason taught today to avoid at all costs. Or you might choose, as we do, to call the feeling excitement, for what could be more thrilling than taking a few hours out of your life and a little money out of your wallet to create a special occasion for your loved ones?</p>
<p>Highlight that: Special occasions are not organic occurrences; they must be created. And it is our firm belief that the world would be a better place if more of us would give it a shot, whether as generous hosts or as willing guests. We hope what follows will prove useful guidance for those in either position, and, ultimately, serve to revivify entertaining in our society like a piquant sorbet on a sleepy palate.</p>
<p>Won’t you join us?&nbsp;</p>Tue, 03 Sep 2013 16:33:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlJ. Bryan Lowder2013-09-03T16:33:00ZLifeThe New Rules of Entertaining. Rule No. 1: Entertain!240130903001entertainingJ. Bryan LowderEntertainingEntertaininghttp://www.slate.com/blogs/entertaining/2013/09/03/rules_for_entertaining_slate_s_guide_to_being_a_great_host_and_gracious.htmlfalsefalsefalsePhoto by Retrofile/Getty ImagesEntertain often!